Tiny baby monkey Jasmine sat quietly by the door, her little fingers gently tapping on the wooden frame. Her big, round eyes stared through the narrow space under the door, hoping… waiting… searching.
She didn’t want toys. She didn’t want food.
She just wanted Mom.
Earlier, she had been placed inside the quiet room to rest while Mom handled some chores outside. But Jasmine wasn’t sleepy. Not at all. Her heart thudded with longing. Every little noise outside made her ears perk up. Was that Mom? Was she coming?
She crawled to the corner, then back to the door again. Her tail curled tightly around her foot. A soft, lonely whimper escaped her lips. She sat, still as stone, just wishing the door would open.
Suddenly, Jasmine pressed both palms to the floor and leaned close to the bottom gap of the door. She sniffed. She knew that scent. Yes! That was Mom’s scent. She squeaked loudly, hoping her mom would hear.
Nothing.
Her little body trembled—not with fear, but with emotion.
She missed her mom’s warm chest, her soft voice, her gentle hands.
Feeling helpless, she pressed her cheek against the door and closed her eyes. “Mama,” her soft voice barely whispered.
Then, a sound. Footsteps. The door creaked.
And there she was. Mom.
Jasmine bolted into her arms, crying with relief. She buried her face into Mom’s chest and clung tightly, never wanting to let go again.
